


Take the Edge Off

by irolltwenties (Shenanigans)



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Gen, Gen Work, Pre-Slash, pre-malex, teen roswell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-02 07:53:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20272510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shenanigans/pseuds/irolltwenties
Summary: Written for the Cosmic Love Exchange 2019 for the prompt: teen roswell. Maria and Michael moments we didn't get in the show?





	Take the Edge Off

1.

The cafeteria at Roswell High hadn’t changed in almost twenty years, the pale linoleum tiles getting a seasonal wax and polish. The tables were long rectangular rows with bench seats bolted into the floor in an expansive room that faced a wall of windows that didn’t open. The lunch ladies were a mismatched collection of middle aged women who spoke three different languages. The first lunch bell was a quieter group, the second swing bell bringing a raucous swell of noise at the overlap with the introduction of half the football team. Liz Ortecho usually met up with her best friends at the salad bar before wandering to their table. She didn’t have to eat with Kyle and his group of friends, but would walk by his table as she left and he arrived. They were technically on a break right now, so she didn’t have to do anything and let herself settle at the seat third from the end, tray clattering down next to where Maria DeLuca was unpacking her lunch. 

Maria had been packing a lunch since sixth grade after she’d read The Jungle by Upton Sinclair and decided to become a vegetarian. She was unwrapping a banana peanut butter sandwich and a small tupperware of fruit salad her mother had made for her. Maria was a beautiful girl, eclectic and little distracted, covered in bangles and brilliance. Liz had liked her immediately and been secretly pleased that she would get their entire senior year with her to herself, not having to share with her older sister for once. 

"I don't think this _technically_ counts as meat," Liz muttered, lifting the top bun on the cafeteria hamburger and touching the melted cheese with cautious fingers.

“I don’t think they’ve used real meat in the burgers here since 1978.” Maria wet her lips, picking the pineapple out of the fruit salad as she watched the double door entrance. "Have you seen Alex today? I wanted to see if we got the same answers on the Calc homework."

"No." Liz shrugged, dropping the bun and quickly pulling her hair back into a ponytail. Their table was towards the back of the cafeteria, far enough from the lines that they could talk without yelling and not so far that they were sitting in the jumper seats near the door. Liz had never skipped school, learning the lesson from the truancy officers who had escorted Rosa back to the school office. She remembered the quiet, hushed conversation their Dad had with Rosa that night. She didn’t want to disappoint him. She was going to do great things. She was going to make herself so invaluable that America would thank her by letting her father stay. 

She and Maria usually sat side by side and faced the entrance. Alex Manes would straddle the bench across from them, laughing and maintaining a running commentary on the rest of their classmates. Sometimes the day would call their name and they would duck outside and eat on the steps down to the parking lot beside the football field. Max and Isobel Evans usually ate on the bleachers, but Liz didn’t want to think too deeply on why she knew that. Maria had her bag on the table, Liz's books kept in a neat stack next to her on the bench seat. “You don’t trust my answers?” 

"You won’t share and you know it. Don’t pretend like you would.” Maria frowned, setting her sandwich down and looking at Liz. “That's two days in a row he's been out." Maria frowned. "Do you think he's sick? I should message him."

"He seemed fine," Liz answered around a bite. “Right? I mean, he did cut his hair off.” Liz chewed thoughtfully. “But it looks good, so I figured he was just-”

"He didn’t take his guitar home with him." 

Maria and Liz both startled, looking down the table to where Michael Guerin had spoken up. He usually sat by himself, sketching in the nearly full notebook he was always carrying with him. He paused, glancing over and making a face. "He usually takes it home." He shook his head, curls falling into his face as he went back to sketching. 

Guerin had shown up halfway through their sixth grade year, hair cropped short and wearing a bland pair of jeans with a white t-shirt that looked too big. He’d shrugged a hello and sat down without saying a word. Liz had wanted to introduce herself, but he’d simply folded into the duo of the Evans’ twins almost seamlessly and it was only a matter of months before everyone seemed to forget it hadn’t always been a trio.

“Why do you know that?” Maria narrowed her eyes at him and Liz watched his face go carefully blank.

“I'm not obsessed with him. I'm just observant." He thinned his mouth, glancing between them both before turning back down to where he was sketching. 

“Is that all you’re eating?” Maria asked after a moment, frowning at the vending machine bag of chips and bottled water.

“Is that your own business you should be minding?” Guerin replied, glancing up and raising both eyebrows at her. Maria tilted her head, rolling her eyes back at him. 

“I have an extra sandwich,” Maria continued, undaunted. Liz was always impressed at the way she and her sister seemed so unafraid and unapologetic. They had moved matched step through the halls, always a half beat in front of her, a half beat unconsciously cooler.

“I don’t need your charity, DeLuca.”

“Consider it a tab, then.” Maria smiled brightly and threw the sandwich to smack against the table next to his elbow. “You’re good for it, right?”

The sandwich was in a simple ziplock bag, wheat bread gone a little smashed at the corner and the bananas browned and syrupy sweet. Michael looked at it, then back at Maria before nodding a quick thanks and dragging it in front of him with quick fingers. “I’ll owe you a favor.”

“Done deal.” Maria turned back to Liz, conversation forgotten as quickly as it had started. “So, you’ll let me check your Calc homework?”

“No way. We live and die by our mistakes like men.” Liz smiled sweetly and took another bite of burger, folding back into the normalcy of senior year without another thought. 

2.

“Why did we have to come to the library again?” Liz asked for the second time as she wandered after Maria and Rosa as they prowled down the bookshelves with a single-minded purpose.

“Research,” Maria answered, fingers moving over the spines of the books as she read.

“It can’t be tracked in a search history?” Rosa added, two shelves lower and skimming just as intently.

“Aesthetics,” Alex replied in a bored drawl from where he was sitting on the floor, legs sprawled across the aisle between the shelves as he read. He’d started wearing more black lately, the long-sleeved undershirt had holes cut out for his thumbs. She’d been there when Maria had helped pierce his ear, and tilted her head when he’d gotten his septum done two days later. He was changing, moving away from the softer skater into something hard edged and angry. There was a small and ever growing pile of books around him, a bright pink trapper keeper with a puppy on the front that was scribbled out with black permanent marker, and one of Maria’s highlighters.

Maria turned, beaming at him and pointed. “That too.” She glanced back at the notebook in her hands and went back to reading spines. “It’s important to use public services. WIthout the numbers for tally, they lose funding. They lose funding and-”

“We lose a simple public resource that can be used by anyone and doesn’t cost anything.” Rosa picked up the explanation without missing a beat when Maria yelped happily and pulled the text from the shelf, waving it at them all with a triumphant smile.

“This is a bad idea.” Liz tucked her hair behind her ear and sighed.

“Those are the best kind, Nerdbird,” Rosa answered, wicked grin on her face. She’d shrugged out of her leather jacket, leaving it next to Alex where he was sprawled; she looked like a switchblade made flesh in tight black jeans, black boots, and a loose fitting band shirt with the sleeves cut out to show off the bright red bra.

“You’re going to get in trouble,” Liz continued, thinning her mouth at where Rosa was folding her arms and shifting her weight into a classic stance of defiance.

“Worth it.”

“We have to bring awareness to the unfair treatment of dairy cattle.” Maria was wearing a bright colored, multi-tiered skirt that swirled around her ankles and a white t-shirt knotted just under her ribs that she’d stolen from Rosa. It proudly proclaimed: Vampire Lesbians of Sodom.

“But, real blood? Doesn’t that seem really... I don’t know. Stephen King? Like what if someone goes nuts and kills us all?”

“I know Isobel Evans is a bitch, but she’s not a psychotic, mind-powered murderer, okay? She’s just our own personal mean girl.” Maria frowned, throwing a sidelong glance at Rosa before flopping down shoulder to shoulder with Alex in a flurry of bright skirt and silver bells. Alex didn’t look up from his reading, just shifted, pressed a quick kiss to her temple as he moved the skirt off his thigh, and turned the page.

“Debatable.” They all looked to the end of the aisle where Michael Guerin was pulling a book from the shelf. He moved so quietly they hadn’t noticed him. He was in a battered pair of sneakers, the baggier pair of jeans, and his third shirt - the pale green one with holes at the collar. He looked at them and shrugged. “It’s not personal, she’s just like that.” 

“_Shit._”

“You can’t-”

“I don’t care about your stunt,” he told them. “You’re going to get banned, possibly suspended? If you think it’s worth it, that’s cool.” He smirked, glance moving between the group before landing on where Maria was frowning slightly. “Consider it a favor.” He nodded and pulled the book under his fingers from the shelf. The back was a solemn picture of a thin white man in thick glasses and a long title that hinted at a level of astrophysics that made Liz blink in surprise.

Maria smiled brightly at him. “Thanks, Guerin.”

“I pay my tabs.” He started to turn, pausing before looking back. “Also, if you’re looking for a good technique for spring-loaded spray, you’re going to want to check out some of the stuff they have here on theatrical effects. You’re going to hurt someone if you use that.” He pointed at the book in Maria’s hand. “That’s tactical.”

“I could have told them that,” Liz muttered. “No one listens to me.”

“You’re welcome,” Michael said softly, wetting his lips and tilting into a turn that took him out of sight. They all stared after him for a breath before Alex pointedly cleared his throat and went back to reading.

“That was unexpected.”

3.

"You have to get the strapless black one," Rosa said around the straw of her smoothie. "It's like a rule or something."

"I don't have to do anything," Liz muttered, sliding the hangars along the rack rail and mentally ticking a yes or no box as she scanned.

"Tell her strapless black is for looking sexy for your high school sweetheart, football player, probable homecoming king person." Rosa tipped the smoothie at where Maria was feeling the beadwork on a bodice of a short emerald green dress that would look stunning on her.

"Listen to your sister."

"That was very compelling, DeLuca. Thank you for that ringing endorsement."

"Not my sister not my problem." Maria grinned quickly taking the dress off the rack with a rattle of beads. "I'm trying this one on."

"Kyle's been a dick lately," Liz frowned, pulling a patterned rose colored dress from the rack and stroking the soft ribbon belt with light fingers. "This one has pockets!"

"You don't need pockets at Homecoming. I have taught you nothing." Rosa shook her head and wandered towards a soft looking leather jacket with a bias cut on the zipper. "You're on your own. I formally give up. This is me giving up."

"If you like that one," Maria whispered, leaning over to rest her head on Liz's shoulder. "You should try it on. I like having pockets."

Liz sighed, tilting her head against Maria's hair with a small smile. "Thank you." She nodded tucking the dress over her arm with the four black slip dresses Rosa had shoved at her as they wandered the racks. "I like the green."

"It's so _vibrant_. Plus, complementary color to red. I want to make a statement." Maria winked, straightening and starting to weave through the carefully placed racks of dresses the department store had stocked before homecoming. They passed a-line gowns, short hi low mockups, a random neon pink confection, and one stunning gold dress with lace overlay on top of a nude slip. Liz touched it lightly before shaking her head and hooking the royal blue skirt top combo to flop over the pile. "Kyle is probably going to want to wear school colors because of the whole football thing."

"I am so looking forward to not having to worry about color schemes for your social engagements. I take it you guys are back on?"

"He groveled. I don't know why he acts like such a douche bag at school. He's really smart and incredibly thoughtful. It's just frustrating that he can't seem to just be that guy all the time instead of just with me."

"Single is always a good option. Keeps you from ending up with the Chads. The Chads are terrifying and legion." Maria tapped a finger to her temple and paused outside the dressing room. It was one of the fancier kinds with a small lobby that sat three comfortably in low cushioned chairs and a raised dais with a beveled, three paned mirror for viewing.

"Trust me. No white." Michael Guerin had his head tipped back, curls smeared against the wall where he was apparently trying to sleep in one of the chairs in the dressing room as he talked to someone behind one of the closed stall doors.

"You still haven't said why," came Isobel Evan's muffled reply, the sound of fabric a rustle behind the door. There were three white and off-white dresses hanging on the front and at least ten hanger hooks on the inside. Michael looked like they'd been there for awhile. He had his eyes closed, hands clasped over his stomach and legs sprawled out in front of him. 

"It's not your color."

"That's a _blatant_ lie." Maria ducked back as the door popped open and Isobel Evans exited, holding the front of a beautiful rouched white dress against her chest, zipper open as she turned with a quick imperious sigh. "Zip me up.” She paused, frowning prettily. “Everything is my color." 

Michael sighed and pushed to his feet, moving to zip Isobel into the dress. Maria covered her mouth, eyes wide as she tugged Liz away. Liz breathlessly followed her, tucked into the folds of taffeta and chiffon under a belled satin skirt hanging just outside the dressing room entrance. Liz poked her head around the corner, spying on the two. 

"Just trust me," Michael muttered, fingers gentle as he eased the zipper up, pausing at the top to hook the eyelet with practiced ease. He watched Isobel in the mirror, eyes amused and smile more genuine than anything Liz had seen on him in school. He was wearing a new shirt that still had a sticker at the back, newly purchased, and a bag sat on the floor that looked like it had two shoe boxes inside. 

There was a long pause and Liz leaned out too far, one of the dresses falling off the hanger and thumping heavily onto the floor. She caught the look Michael flicked into the mirror, catching her before she ducked back around the corner.

"Iz," she heard him say, voice carrying easily. "I don't want to accidentally get you dirty when we dance, okay? You know I've been picking up shifts at the Salvage Yard."

"Fine. No white." Liz heard Isobel's voice go soft and warm, kind with the twirl of skirt. "Unzip me." 

Maria visibly boggled before she and Liz took a moment to duck back for a last glance, Michael Guerin unzipping Isobel Evans' dress with gentle care. She flushed slightly at the odd intimacy of the moment, the way Isobel's hair fell forward, caught to keep it from the zipper teeth and Michael moving slow enough that it seemed to quiet the normal bitchiness Isobel kept on hand. 

"I like the dark green one," he murmured. "Makes your eyes look really green."

"Fine. But you're going to have to match. I'm not going stag." 

"I got you."

4.

Maria made it all the way to the parking lot before she crumbled around the edges. Liz had followed her out of the dance after the yelling had stopped. She'd watched the way Max had held his sister back, the indiscriminate rage on Isobel Evans' face. She'd watched the way Max had found her eyes in the crowd before focusing back in on the nearly six feet of feminine anger he was wrangling with an arm around Isobel's waist. She was speckled with a spray of red, hair plastered to one side of her face and eyes wild. Maria had managed to drop the mic and flee after the small speech on animal cruelty and the bomb of fake blood had gone off, a sticky pink mist of corn syrup and food coloring splattering the side of the stage.

Maria had looked stunning, hair a wild riot of natural curls around her face and dress a breathtaking emerald sparkle in the spotlight. Maria DeLuca was small, petite-framed with easy curves and long, smooth legs tucked into subtle green heels. She stood out in a sea of blue and black dresses, matched only slightly by the pale jade green one-shoulder mini dress that Isobel Evans' was wearing. Maria had given her small speech and then looked over, realizing that Isobel was in the direct line of the explosion and whispered a nearly silent apology that had caught and echoed into the music's pause.

The dance had been silent, stunned until the one shriek of outrage cut through the crowd, setting off a chain reaction of panic that Liz had been expecting. She saw the way the chaperones had kicked off the walls, nearly drowsing in their dowdy suit and simple blue dress to surge toward both Isobel and Maria where they were on the stage. Liz had blinked when Kyle started laughing, pointing at the spectacle from under his crooked crown. "It's not funny."

"It kind of is?" Kyle sobered, tucking his lips over his teeth and looked pleadingly at her for a moment before she sighed and shrugged out from under the weight of his arm and after where Maria had darted off stage and away from the teachers who were chasing her. "Babe, come on!"

She heard him calling behind her as she managed to slip out the double door, following Maria down the walkway, the sound of the dance behind her going muffled as the doors shut behind her again. There was another brief roar of noise and she glanced back, catching sight of Alex Manes following her, jacket open and stride long as he sprinted to catch up. "Which way did she go?"

"She's parked behind the auditorium." Liz hated running in heels, skidding for a moment to grab Alex's shoulder and hook out of the shoes and turn down the stairwell to head past the football field, the row of dumpsters, and around the back delivery alley to the stage entrance where Maria’s battered, second-hand Volvo wagon was waiting.

Alex was pacing himself to let her keep up and Liz had a moment to be utterly grateful for her pockets when she didn’t have to pause and look for her keys or her phone or worry about a clutch. She spotted Maria standing in the parking lot by the dumpsters, dress glittering in the dark, winsome and lovely as she spoke with someone.

“Is that?” Alex slowed, glancing over at Liz as they approached the pair.

Michael Guerin was standing by the bed of his truck, hand on the side of the tailgate as he cocked his head at where Maria was talking to him, hair shifting in the slight breeze. He was wearing a simple black suit that seemed too tight at the shoulders, sleeves slightly too long. His shoes were brand new, shiny black and polished. He’d tamed his hair slightly and the pale green tie matched the color of Isobel’s dress. He tucked something under the tarp covering the mess of his truck bed and wiped at his mouth. He was watching the three of them warily before glancing back to the gym. “So, I take it you went through with it?”

“Yes,” Maria replied, air quiet and tense. Michael was visibly thinking, glancing between Maria and Liz and finally settling on Alex. 

“So you’re missing the dance?”

“Well, I have to go back eventually,” Liz managed, turning to look back and wondering briefly if Kyle would follow her.

“Did you get to dance at least?” Michael asked, gaze lingering on Alex’s suit jacket, the black broken with light pinstriping and a shiny texture. Liz had taken the same long look when he’d shown up in eyeliner. Michael wet his lips, turning his eyes back to Maria. 

“I dance when I want to,” Maria sassed, leaning into a cocked hip stance and tilting her head at him. “I don’t need a formal for permissi-”

“Got it.” Michael huffed a laugh, head rolling forward to rattle his curls around before he looked up again and held up a finger and moved to lean in the open window of his truck to turn the engine and crank the radio. He leaned back, pulling the door open with a squeal of metal on metal as the radio started playing a soft melody. “Shame to waste that dress though. Green looks good on you.” 

"What?" Maria tilted her head at him.

"Fucking dance with me, DeLuca. It's not that bad, I promise." He held out a hand, watching her with a steady gaze and Liz had a moment to think he could be handsome one day, when he'd grown into his jawline and shoulders. Right now he was still rangy and unfinished, soft around future sharp edges. 

"Fine. Just one." Maria smirked, taking a quick half step forward as he took her hand and reeled her in.

"It's a hardship."

"You smell like a river."

"Liar. I smell like some expensive cologne Iz bought me. I showered and everything." They swayed together, his hand tucked sensibly at the small of her back as she melted closer in inches. 

"Fine. You're not so bad, Guerin."

Michael tucked his jaw against her hair and turned them slowly, watching Alex in the dark as they swayed. "Don't tell anyone. It's a secret."

The music was a soft silly pop song that crackled out of the old speakers, barely moving past the circle of light from the one parking lot lamp. Their curls moved in tandem in the breeze and Liz found herself edging a half step closer to lean lightly against Alex, feeling him stiffen slightly before relaxing and looking over at her. This was one of those moments Liz wanted to hold on to, one of those moments that while it was happening she could only wish with every fibre of her being: _please, this one, let me remember this one. _

Michael closed his eyes at the chorus and Maria simply slipped soft against him, a matched set in green and curls in the paved parking lot between the bleachers and the dance. Just like this Maria seemed so small, delicate for a moment caught between his chest and his palm. Liz exhaled and wished. The song crackled to a finish, the DJ starting to talk as the chords softened and led into an overly loud ad for the local car dealership. Maria stepped back, nodding once and placing both hands flat on Michael’s chest and pushing carefully.

“Thanks.” Michael held her gaze for a breath before he went loose in his skin again, smirking and taking a half step around her, holding his hand out to where Alex and Liz were leaning together. “Who’s next?” 

5.

Rosa tossed her bag down next to where Maria was sitting on the roof with the weed. Liz was on the blacktop with her back to the brick, working on her homework as Maria smoked idly and kept her legs hooked over the edge of the walkway, heels kicking as she toked. "Michael Guerin just asked me for a fake. Do we trust him?"

Maria wet her lips, picking at a bit of shake that had stuck to her lipgloss and considered as she licked her thumb and dotted out a runner in the joint. "I think so." She nodded a few times, handing the joint over where Rosa had a hand out for it.

"Really?" Rosa inhaled, voice going tight and muzzy as she waited before exhaling and settling next to her best friend. "Isn't he tight with Isobel Evans?"

"He is."

"Are we rethinking our stance on that group?" Rosa sounded casual, but something in her tone made Liz glance up. Maria seemed unconcerned, humming lightly in the soft breeze on the rooftop. 

"Maybe? I don't know. We're considering it, but Guerin seems like good people."

"Max is nice."

"Max is the living embodiment of Vanilla Yogurt," Rosa replied with a snort. "Just because he's tall doesn't make him interesting or handsome. You have to remember to ask yourself the important question, Nerdbird."

"Is he handsome or is he _tall_," she and Maria intoned together, voices serious before shattering into giggles that had them rocking back and forth dangerously as the rusting rail creaked ominously.

"I think he's nice."

"You think everyone is nice," Rosa reminded her. "You need some defenses or you're going to get run over by the world."

"Why does Guerin need a fake?" Liz asked, changing the subject.

"I don't ask these questions," Rosa replied. "And you shouldn't either. It's better to keep you in the dark."

"I'm not a kid," Liz pouted.

"No, you're perfect and beautiful and innocent and I love you. Never change." Rosa nodded and handed the joint back to Maria. "This town is going to be the death of me. I need to get out. I need to see the world. I need to be free."

"Howl at the moon!" Maria chimed in, tilting her head back and yodeling out a perfectly tuned c-note to the moon.

Liz laughed when Rosa joined in. Together they were a beautiful set of chaos theory made perfect and precious. Together they were incandescent and Liz was a shadow that followed behind.

+1

Maria almost didn’t recognize Michael Guerin when he wandered into the Pony four months after Rosa’s funeral. He was unshaven, with red-rimmed reckless eyes and hair that was tangled on one side and picked wild by the wind on the other. He looked like a reflection of himself. He was wearing the third t-shirt again, stains at the underarms and hole in the collar gone gaping and wide. His jeans were dirty, grease-stained with a new rip at the left knee. He rubbed his jaw against his shoulder and locked eyes on the only empty barstool, moving determinedly toward the seat in front of the second well. The music was loud, thumping half-hearted country mixed with old AC/DC and a few smattered newer pop songs. They’d upgraded to one of those wall-mounted juke boxes right before Rosa died.

They’d done a lot of things right before Rosa died and Maria was starting to realize that her life was going to be divided neatly into Before Rosa and After Rosa. The timeline still new enough that she found herself waiting for a text at night or hoping she’d climb the metal stairs of the fire escape at the Crashdown and find Rosa practicing one of her songs on the battered guitar. She kept hoping that Rosa wasn’t dead on the side of the road. She kept hoping she wasn’t just a simple white cross and a body in the dirt.

Maria wished for a lot of things, but she was still waiting for one of them to come true.

She’d been tending bar on accident tonight, her mother had woken a little confused and not feeling well. Maria had smiled, tucking her plans into her back pocket and grabbing the tills to open. She’d been pouring the perfect pint since she was twelve after all. She could handle the business for one night.

“You can’t be here, Guerin,” Maria hissed, wiping down the bar until she reached him and looking around.

“Place looks open to me, DeLuca,” Michael replied, setting a brand new black cowboy hat on the bar. It looked odd on his head, too large and waiting to fit right. He handed her a smile she’d never seen and wasn’t sure she liked as he gently set both hands on the polished wood bartop. 

“You got ID?” she replied, brows flicking up.

He laughed, off key and wobbling and hitched to the left to fish his wallet out of his right back pocket and handed her the fake Rosa had made him. “That work?”

Maria frowned, chest going tight as she felt the edges and stared at his face in the plastic. “You know I know this is-”

“You gonna serve me, DeLuca, or am I gonna have to find someplace else to forget for awhile?” He almost whispered the question and Maria glanced up, holding his eyes.

She’d tried to read him just once before, curious in sixth grade and had startled when Isobel, Max, and Michael’s heads had all swiveled to stare at her across the lunchroom. She’d startled so hard, heart pounding as she looked away. She hadn’t looked again. Honestly, she hadn’t needed to.

Michael Guerin was a mess. Michael Guerin was heartbroken and lost. Michael Guerin was broken. She watched him as he watched her. “Come on, DeLuca. Start me a tab?”

She opened her mouth, tapping the edge of his fake against the bar.

“Please.”

Maria DeLuca had a soft spot for the broken ones. She asked herself one simple question: what would Rosa do? 

In her head, she heard the wild slippery laugh and could almost smell the hint of peppery weed and amber vanilla body spray. She looked at Guerin and felt a sudden connection. They both just wanted something that could never happen. They were both the ones left behind.

“Just one.” She handed him the fake and tilted her head. “Beer or Bourbon?”

Michael tucked the ID back into his wallet and tucked a fake smile onto his face, grinning brightly at her. “Dealer’s choice, Darlin’.”

“Don’t call me Darlin’.”

“Okay, DeLuca.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Originally posted here.](http://irolltwenties.tumblr.com)


End file.
